It’s a damned hard thing to do. I—I am a lovesick idiot, and not accountable for my actions. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. With the aid of a penknife he ripped the shoulder seams and drew out the ten one-thousand dollar bills. "And now, mark me.
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